Wallet Moments
by MisterCrazyUpstairs
Summary: The thirteen most memorable moments of Harry Potter's adult life, recounted in no particular order.


**A/N: Chapter one of thirteen everyone. Reviews are appreciated and they fuel the author, so let me know if you like it or not! **

"Father Christmas is coming, Father Christmas is coming!" Lily yelled, as she ran around the house decked in all the Potters' Christmas decorations. She obviously thought that the more Christmas-oriented she was, the faster the presents would come, but that didn't seem to be the case.

"You look _stupid_." James said, indicating her pointed elf hat and ruffled pajamas. She'd practically wrapped herself all in their continuously blinking tree-lights, which was dangerously close to being ripped from the wall. She still had cookie crumbs littering her face from her late night snack, and she did, if anything, look a bit silly.

"Do not," she said, pouting at her older brother.

"Do too. And besides, _Father Christmas _isn't real."

"Is too!" The girl shrieked, plugging her ears at the atrocity of his statement. "Who else would leave presents?"

"Mom and Dad." James replied, his voice loud enough for even Lily to still hear him. Albus, who'd been sitting beneath the tree, walked over to their little confrontation.

"Nu-uh," he said joining in, with as much dignity as a seven-year-old could manage. "Those are different ones. Father Christmas brings _more._"

"No he doesn't. Dad waits up at night and leaves them- you're stupid for believing it."

"No no!" Lily cried, pulling off her little hat and running over to the kitchen, where her mother and father resided. "Daddy, make James _stop._"

Harry effortlessly picked his little girl up and cradled her. "What's the matter punkin?" He asked, trying to elicit a smile by tickling her chest. "What'd he say this time?"

Lily, who usually just complained about her dolls being stolen or her feelings being hurt, said, "he said that Father Christmas wasn't real, and that _you_ leave all those presents."

"What?" Harry questioned, sending a look Ginny's way, which she exchanged warily. "Why would he say that?"

"Just make him stop." She said, covering her eyes with her hands. And then a little quieter, "Father Christmas _is_ real."

"James." Harry said sternly, as he walked into the living room to his oldest son. He was busy poking fun at Albus, and turned to face his father.

"Yes Dad?"

"Why'd you tell Lily that Father Christmas isn't real?" he asked. James was the more rebellious of his three children, even at the young age of nine. He and Ginny were apprehensive that maybe naming him after two of Hogwarts greatest trouble-makers was perhaps more than just a namesake. Not that they were superstitious, but one did wonder.

"Because he's not. I've seen you and Mom leave the toys in our stockings."

Harry glared at James before setting Lily down, and turning to her. "Go to your room Lils. Daddy and James need to have a talk. Albus, you too."

After his kids, rather reluctantly, left the living room, Harry said, "Son, you can't just go around spoiling secrets for people like your sister and Al. Even Rosie and Hugo, and your other littler cousins. It's not nice to tell them things that you know, because you're the big kid. You have to keep things like that to yourself, and just pretend for them, okay?"

At this James looked distraught. "You mean, Father Christmas really _isn't _real?"

Harry fought back a smile at the mayhem his son had caused. "I never said that."

Just then they heard a scratching noise at the chimney, and it expanded to accomodate the size of a great, big man in a red and white outfit, with a stomach as far as the sea. James's mouth dropped open at this, and he looked at his father quickly in amazement.

"Ho ho ho." The man, obviously Father Christmas, called merrily. "I guess if the children are still awake, I'll come back another time." He made to leave back up the chimney.

"No, no!" James said quickly, still in shock. "I-I'll go to sleep!" And he rushed up the stairs as fast as he could.

Harry could hear the clambering of his children, as James no doubt recounted the tales. He turned to the man in the suit. "Ginny called you?" he asked, a slackened smile playing his lips.

"And it's bloody hot in here," said the man, as he ripped off the beard and hat to reveal a familiar ginger head. "You'll owe me for this one Harry, by time when my kids don't believe..."

Harry laughed at the thought of himself in such a ridiculous costume, but dragged Ron in for some eggnog. He had a feeling it was going to be a pretty good Christmas after all.


End file.
